The Warrior

  Max isn’t the only one who’s despaired over the restraint on their relationship.

  Valery is in pain, too, maybe more so.

  “Hey, Dante,” Annabelle says. “You think you’re something special?”

  “Like a boss,” I reply without missing a beat, though my thoughts are still on Valery.

  “You’re not that hot.” She grins. “In fact, you look like a dog.”

  “I howl like one, too.”

  “Hey, Dante,” Max says from two seats down. “I find you very, very attractive.”

  “Keep drinking, baby,” I say.

  He winks and tips his wine glass.

  “I’m probably the only hot one here.” Annabelle’s words are slurred, but I’m not buying that she’s drunk.

  “You got that right,” Paine says, quietly.

  She points at his chest and eyes me. “You hear that?”

  I nod. “I heard it.”

  Annabelle pushes back from the table. “I’m full. Maybe I want to dance now.”

  Paine shoots up in his chair, one hand on his stomach. “Will you dance with me, Annabelle?”

  She flashes a quick glance at Kraven. “Yes, Paine. Yes, I will.”

  Kraven slams his fist down on the table. I don’t mean he slams it as emphasis like I did earlier. No, home boy brings his fist down like he wants to shatter the wood in half. “Anna,” he says.

  The violinist continues, and so does the cheerful babble from the surrounding tables. But our table has hushed. All eyes are on Kraven.

  “You’ve been so kind to me, Paine.” Annabelle’s voice holds a note of realization, like for the first time she’s compared the two men and found Kraven lacking. She takes his hand and leads him to a cozy area near a corner.

  Kraven doesn’t react again. He just lowers his eyes and we all turn to see what Cannonball Annabelle will do next. That girl has gone from no boyfriend to having two guys lust after her, and I know why, too. She’s found her confidence here at the Hive. She’s learned to fight, stood by a best friend that needed her, and gotten her hands on some seriously amazing dresses. And she’s not in a high school environment anymore. That alone can drastically change how an eighteen-year-old girl carries herself.

  Annabelle has grown into herself.

  And guys have taken notice.

  She and Paine dance awkwardly, stepping on each other’s feet. It’s a sad sight, really. Fortunately, I don’t have the same problem. I stand and offer my hand to Charlie. She dabs her mouth with a stiff white napkin before accepting my offer. I’m glad to get away from Kraven’s misery and forget about anything that isn’t my girl. We move to where Annabelle and Paine are and I lightly touch her waist.

  The music suddenly becomes more cheerful and I ask Charlie, “Do you know how to waltz?”

  She shakes her head, her bottom lip pursed.

  “I’ll show you.” I hold her hand to the side and count. “One, two-three. One, two-three. One big flat step, then two shuffle steps on your toes. You see?” I’m not sure if I’m doing this exactly right. It’s been a while since I attended a gala with my parents. What I do remember is Dad talking business the whole night while Mom guzzled too much champagne. Both forgot I was there. But no worries. Someone always found me, a woman too old to be ogling a sixteen-year-old, or a girl my age who never stopped staring. I’d dance with either for hours, because they smelled of expensive perfume and laughed fervently and there was nothing better to do.

  One, two-three.

  Dancing with Charlie is something else, though. Charlie and I moving together is perfect and natural, like we’ve done it for years and it’s still remarkable and where are our children? Probably getting into trouble but I don’t care because I’m holding their mother.

  I think back to when we danced at the Halloween ball at Centennial High School. She still had her limp and I swept her into my arms so she could sway to the music without discomfort. I think about doing that now, but she doesn’t need me in that way anymore. It makes me wonder if she needs me at all. Not to hold her while she dances. Not to protect her. So what then?

  Charlie lays her head on my shoulder and breathes a sigh of pleasure.

  Oh.

  Soon Max and Valery are dancing next to us, and at some point I spot humans rising from their tables and joining in. The first Patrelli sister who came for the meal leaves and the second sister appears for the dancing. Time slips past too quickly. At one point, seven humans race to the kitchen, champagne glasses in hands, laughing wildly. They reappear with chocolate lemon tortes dusted with powdered sugar. We eat them while dancing and Charlie kisses the chocolate off my lips.

  “Stop stealing my dessert, girl.”

  “Never!” She punches her arm into the air, so I dip her low and kiss her throat.

  Annabelle breaks in between Charlie and I and the two of them dance the worst dance I’ve ever seen. Paine and I link arms and swing around as fast as we can go. This isn’t a dance either. But with half a bottle of champagne in my belly, it sure feels like it is. Max links onto my other arm and then I spin them both around like I’m the center of a carnival ride.

  The music has reached its peak now and I don’t think about tomorrow. I think about now and how Charlie’s face is alight with bliss and how I’ve never seen Annabelle look so radiant. I think about Kraven smiling as he watches Annabelle laugh and how Neco’s lurking is pretty funny now that I think about it.

  I don’t know why I do it.

  I don’t know.

  But I release Paine and Max and rush toward Neco, that bastard. I hook arms with him and spin around and around like I did before. He tries to shove me off with authentic frustration, but then Paine hooks his other arm and Max hooks my spare one. We spin around like one big ball of testosterone that’s seen prouder days.

  “What are you doing?” Neco yells in his Australian accent as glasses clink and people sing and a lone violin plays.

  “We’re spinning, dick,” I yell.

  “Why?” he hollers.

  “Why not?” Paine chimes in.

  Neco continues to try and pull away until we’re spinning so fast that we almost stumble. And then there it is.

  A smile.

  Neco’s grinning and now he’s spinning with us instead of against us. Look at me! I’m Charlie Cooper with her infectious fun! Neco may be a traitor, but as I watch him laughing, I think, Maybe he is. But perhaps converting him back to our side is a better battle to win.

  Max reaches out and grabs Kraven. The liberator says it “isn’t happening” but Max holds tight and now we’re five full-grown dudes spinning in a circle. Charlie and Annabelle grab Valery and they break into the middle and force us to form a circle around them. We spin one way and they spin another and the room blurs.

  Everyone laughs and this is the most fun I’ve ever had and where’s the champagne?

  Someone trips and we all tumble onto each other, dying with laughter.

  “Party foul,” Max yells.

  “I think the party foul started when the men started dancing together,” Annabelle roars.

  All around us the humans and jackrabbits continue to dance, but a few of them point to the sweaty mess that is us piled on the floor. Charlie pulls Annabelle up and motions to the violinist. He sees her and stops playing.

  “I have an announcement to make,” Charlie says. Annabelle begins to move away to give her room, but Charlie guides her back. “I haven’t been able to do as much for my charity as I’d like to in the last few weeks. But once we return home, I plan for it to get the attention it deserves.”

  I get to my feet and clap my support. I’m not totally sure what I’m clapping for, but Charlie’s talking so I’m clapping, damn it.

  Charlie turns to her friend. “We’re a small operation now, but we’re expanding with every event we do. I plan for that to continue. When we’re home, we’ll pick up where we left off. Every Saturday, we’ll help people who have committed to help another person in turn
. And we’ll grow.”

  Charlie wipes the sweat from her brow and smiles a strange smile. “I want to ensure Hands Helping Hands continues to thrive. And that’s why I’m announcing Annabelle as president.”

  The crowd erupts in applause. They don’t know what they’re clapping for, but it’s a night of happiness so they don’t question it. Annabelle’s eyes widen with shock, but when Charlie hugs her close Annabelle returns the embrace.

  Annabelle always said she wanted to do more for the cause, but I bet she never expected this. To be honest, I didn’t either. My mind goes straight to a dark place because, well, it’s at home there.

  Why would Charlie need a president?

  What will she do while Annabelle is running things?

  I raise my arm to shush everyone, but no one stops talking. “Hey, Charlie,” I yell while smiling a lie. “Wait, everyone, I need to ask my girlfriend something.” A few people realize I want the floor, so they quiet. It takes another few moments before everyone else follows suit. Half the smile I’m wearing slides off my face, and I struggle to keep the rest intact.

  “What about you?” I ask.

  Charlie grins, but she also fidgets. I don’t miss the nervous gesture. “What do you mean?”

  “Where will you be when Annabelle is running your charity?”

  She laughs. It sounds forced. It sounds like no other laugh she’s ever laughed. “I’ll be there with her.” Charlie glances at Annabelle and her grin widens. “Co-presidents!”

  “You know it,” Annabelle says.

  “I guess I don’t understand why there needs to be two.”

  Charlie stops smiling, and I’m thankful for the honesty. There’s a hushed moment between the two of us that’s interrupted when Valery moves past me, quiet as a bird. She clasps Charlie’s outer arms and stares at her like Charlie is her own child. “I’m so proud of you, Charlie.” She lays a kiss on her cheek. “Don’t mind him.”

  Charlie throws her arms around Valery’s neck, and the next thing I hear is the unmistakable sound of tears.

  “Charlie.” I stride toward her. The sound of her crying stirs some primal instinct in me, and I know I’ll do anything to make her happy again.

  I stop when I hear Lincoln yelling—

  When I hear Lincoln calling orders to his soldiers, telling them the enemy has breached.

  36

  Forgive Me

  The sirens stride in through the main entry like they were invited for dinner. They walk in with an air of superiority, as if we’re children waiting by the chimney and they’ve come to explain that Santa isn’t real.

  “Liberators, Oswald, front position.” Kraven’s voice is firm and unafraid. “Jackrabbits, second position. Humans, third. Now!”

  We’ve never practiced this before, but what he’s asking makes sense, and so with a soft rustle, eight liberators and one collector move to stand between the sirens and the humans. The jackrabbits align themselves directly behind us in a long, neat row. Behind them, the humans stand ready.

  “You know you haven’t brought the war here.” Kraven addresses the sirens directly. “So why have you come?”

  The sirens turn and face the entryway.

  And Rector walks through it.

  He’s tall and thin and his eyes are dark. The jackrabbits may conduct themselves like they’re part of the military, but Rector screams it with his stance. He holds his hands behind his back and his chin tilts toward the sky. He doesn’t remind me of a cold-blooded killer. No, Rector has goals. Everything he does is to win Lucille’s favor. He wants approval, and that makes him human. Though the time I saw his face change to that of a demon’s tells me that a piece of him is buried deep.

  Rector wears a smirk as he strolls closer, and when the sirens move in as if they are protecting him, he waves them away. I search for his slick black wings, but they are nowhere in sight.

  “Guard the savior,” Kraven orders with the same air of calm.

  His words barely reach my mind, because all I hear is a fierce pounding in my ears. It drives me mad; it tells me that Rector is here and that he needs to die at my hand. The pounding magnifies until I imagine the only thing that can stop it is wrapping my hands around Rector’s throat. I need to find Aspen, and he has her.

  I step forward.

  “Dante, stop,” Kraven says. “Remember the savior.”

  The savior. Charlie. The girl I love.

  I step back, and together with the others we usher Charlie to the center, away from the sirens’ stares and away from Rector. For once, she doesn’t fight us.

  Why can’t Oswald just blow them all to pieces? Why wait until this proclaimed day to fight? Why not now?!

  “You know what we have come for,” Rector says to Kraven in his typical clear, clipped fashion.

  Kraven’s jaw tightens and I see that storm brewing in his eyes that he’s buried for so long. “The war is in three days, demon. Are you afraid to see what we will bring to the battle field?” the liberator says. “You scurry into our home every chance you get like rodents. Your lord has agreed to the same rules mine has: we wait and we battle. Yet you continue to intrude. You continue to test me. You continue to TRY MY PATIENCE!”

  Kraven yells the last part so loudly my head rings. He’s losing it. Kraven once told me he had his own demons, that he did horrible things in his past. It’s why he’s ever calm, always pushing down his fury. But right now, that fury rears its head.

  “Give us the savior,” Rector says as if this is a request we should have expected.

  “Turn and leave this place,” Kraven responds, his voice dangerously low. “Or I will end you here and now.”

  Rector sighs like this is quite the inconvenience.

  Then he motions for the sirens to attack.

  Instinctually, we tighten our bodies together like fish swarming. Some of the sirens produce gleaming knives and rush forward, blades swinging by their sides. A burning smell tickles my senses as Paine, Kraven, and I snap our wings to attention. A few of the humans cry out from behind us having never witnessed our capabilities before.

  As each siren nears me, I tear my wings across my body like a shield, throwing bodies across the room. They come faster and harder as if gaining momentum. The sirens are easy enough to take down, but there are so many. It’s like stepping on an ant hill and trying to brush them from your legs one at a time. With each defensive blow, I peer past the sirens to Rector. I need to get to him. Screw the war in three days. He’s here now, and I want my opportunity to take him down.

  Rector stands at the back of the room, shoulders relaxed. He’s so pacified that he might as well be smoking a cigarette and asking when this situation is going to be over.

  But that won’t last long.

  Oswald spins in clumsy, muttering circles. And then his circling becomes cataclysmic. Go, boy! I feel like screaming. Show ’em what you got! An orange light engulfs his body, growing in volume and flashing with energy. I yell for everyone to take cover just as his powerful charge erupts in a crackling sonic boom.

  I know it’s over. Sirens will lie dead. Rector will be on his back. Hell brought a battle to us inside the Hive, and it was an enormous mistake.

  But when I open my eyes, I see a black inky cloud pressed against Oswald’s orange one. It looks like an open sky when a storm is coming, a bold expanse of orange on one side, and a black mass on the other.

  A siren stands in the middle of his brothers and sisters, hands raised toward the dark cloud, concentration stitched into his features. I can’t believe what I’m seeing, but I should. If powers are awakening in humans on our side, then of course the same could happen with theirs.

  Narrowing my eyes, I realize just who this siren with the black power is. It’s Easton, the dude who stood outside Charlie’s bedroom window mere weeks ago. And there, not too far behind him, is Salem, his cocky older brother. I thought I’d scared those two pricks off, but I guess not.

  The other sirens continue their attack
after seeing that old man’s orange power is offset. A siren lunges onto my wing and I use the other to bat him off. But now the sirens have an idea, so they charge toward my wings at once and use them to pull me toward the floor. Behind me, I hear someone scream, and my mind ticks through all the screams I’ve ever heard Charlie make. Was it her?

  I scramble away from the sirens somehow, but when I twist onto my back, ready to push myself up, I’m struck silent by the blade arched over my head.

  A siren holds it tight between two hands, and for some reason, I find that more horrifying than the weapon itself. It’s like this guy with his thin face and thinner eyebrows is intent on plunging the knife as far in as it will go. His arms tremble above his head for one terrible moment, and in that same moment, I notice he has spittle at the left corner of his mouth.

  Gross, I think.

  And then the blade comes down.

  Right as it’s about to bury itself into my sternum, a pair of glowing hands touch his chest, and the siren soars across the room. He flies so beautifully, like he’s done it all his life. The thing I notice as he sails away are his eyes. They don’t even have time to widen before he’s gone, and then they’re just two dark shadows in his face before he’s hitting the ground.

  “Stop!” Rector roars.

  The sirens edge away from us and toward the lead collector, the collector who’s smiling and clasping his hands and looking as if he wants to dance to the violin that’s long been quieted.

  “I was told of what she could do, but that was spectacular,” Rector says with a touch of amazement. “A savior with a power like that of a gifted mortal. She will be quite useful.”

  Charlie stands over me, her mouth open in bewilderment. It’s the second time she’s ever fully used her ability, and it’s no less mind blowing witnessing it a second time. I get to my feet and start to fold my arms around her, but Valery beats me there.

  She gently leads Charlie away from the front lines and toward the humans, whose blooming bruises and bloodied lacerations speak to the first combat they’ve ever encountered. I scan the room for Neco and find him standing next to Kraven. He hasn’t taken a step in Rector’s direction, and I wonder if he’s truly with us now, if all it took was a smile and a sense of being included. Or if I was wrong about him all along.